A Challenged Life
by autumnamberleaves
Summary: When normal isn't normal anymore, a doctor must travel a path through the unknown.
1. Chapter 1

A Challenged Life

_**A/N I don't own a house let alone THE House. Also, this is an Alternate Universe which is set in the second season but Thirteen is on the team and there is no Cameron. **_

When the three fellows of Dr. Greg House reported for work on an early Monday morning, their world was turned upside down. Or so they thought. None of them would guess that one day soon, one of their lives would be irrevocably changed. Right then though, the three junior members of the Diagonistic department would be stunned into silence over the sight that befell them.

House was already in the conference room, already studying a patient's chart and wearing a grin. Any of his juniors-indeed anyone who had spent a day working with him, would easily say House being happy was dangerous. So forgoing the typical coffee grabbing and crossword solving routines of the day, his team took to their seats.

"Patient presents with paralysis, delirium, and convulsions. Differential diagnosis." House threw three copies of the patient's file on the table towards his team.

This was too surreal. House, being excited over a case that to all concerned seemed typical and boring! House never did boring, not unless he was trying to avoid clinic duty or had some other plot in hand. And since the team knew they had covered his hours, it could only mean House was up to something.

"Come on people! The man doesn't have much time!" House goaded his team.

Ideas were thrown about only to be shot down each in turn by their boss for an hour. House sighed and finally rapped his cane against the table.

"Foreman, the patient was staying at the Marriot on fourth street, find me something!" Foreman stood up and faced his boss.

"I did the last break-in, Thirteen and Chase haven't done one in a while!" Foreman protested, more out of principle than out of any real annoyance.

House shook his head. "Break into a hotel, you crazy or something? No, you'll be using the key that he gave us!" House handed his fellow the key that he had indeed stolen from the patient's backpack. "As for Thirten and Chase, Terminal is on labs and Blonde-"House turned to his Australian fellow, "will get the history." Chase nodded, tugged on his lab coat that he hadn't bothered to put on earlier, and left the room like the obedient fellow he usually was.

The Cheshire cat grin House wore went unnoticed by the Australian.

*************************ACL********************** ********

Chase knocked twice on the patient's door before letting himself in. The patient, a young man with brown hair stared back at him. Chase guessed the man was in his late twenties. "Hi, I'm Doctor Chase," he looked down at the file, "and you must be Ethan Turner." He smiled at the patient, who while alert looked bewildered.

"How did I get here?" Instantly Chase knew why House had seemed in such a good mood and why he'd been drafted into getting the patient's history. House probably had some elaborate scheme that involved embarrassing him. It was par for the course for his boss.

"Ah. Don't meet many fellow Aussies in the States. Judging by your accent, I'm guessing you're from Queensland?"

"Yeah. . . I don't know where I am, or where here is." The man tried to shift but since he was paralyzed was unable to do so instead his eyes fell on the iv snaking in his wrist. He paused for a moment and suddenly shot his eyes up to the doctor. "States? As in not our states, but the United States?" The heart monitor began to rapidly beep.

Chase made for the locked medicine cabinet and withdrew a syringe. "Ethan, I'm going to inject a medicine in your line that will get your heart rate under control." With practiced ease, Chase slid the vial of Lorazepam in the iv. Instantly the monitor showed the patient's heart rate was back to normal.

"Yes, you are at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in New Jersey. We'll get it figured out." He assured the man. Ethan nodded as his eyes drooped, a side effect of the Lorazepam. Chase knew that sleep wasn't far off and cleared his throat. "I'll leave you to sleep in a moment but if you would answer a few questions for me first, that would be helpful."

" ." Ethan's eyes were glazing over but he fought against sleep.

"Well, I'd ask if you've been out of the country, but it seems that question is unnecessary." Chase smirked. "Have you eaten anything unusual in the past several weeks?" Chase recalled the symptoms that had been discussed and written in the file. A food allergy or rotten food could potentially cause any of the three mentioned.

"No. Nothing unusual, except Yanks would probably say Vegemite is unusual." Ethan gave a mirthless laugh. Chase chuckled and jotted on the file.

"Yeah, Americans just don't get the goodness of Vegemite. Most seem to love peanut butter though." Chase gave a theatrical shudder.

"Do you remember anything odd happening recently?" Chase was at a bit of a loss on how to precede. It was always difficult to know which questions to ask when the patient was dealing with the loss of memory. He made certain to jot that finding on his report, so that it would be added during the next DDX.

"No. Just my mates and I went down to Morton Bay recently, spent the day there." Chase nodded; he was very familiar with the Brisbane territory having spent many days of his youth there and other prime surfing areas.

"Speaking of mates, have you seen any of them with you since waking?" The Intensivist attempted to ferret out if Ethan had any friends here who would be able to fill in the missing gaps. Also, he was curious of how the man had ended up in the hospital. Either strangers had noticed he was in distress or friends had taken him to the hospital.

Ethan's face scrunched up almost comically as he pondered the question. "No." He finally answered, "I don't think so." Chase nodded, it was usual for a patient to be hesitant on basic questions when they had been doped up with various medicines. The Lorazepam had been one of several medicines given to Ethan since he was admitted. A quick glance at the iv stand told him that he was on an anticonvulsant, morphine as well as fluids. He made a mental note to stop by the admittance desk to see how Ethan came to the hospital and with whom he had come with. The information really should have been in the file but as the file didn't mention the patient's nationality, Chase wasn't holding out for small wonders.

"That's ok," he assured the other Aussie in the room. Ethan looked like he was wearing out, so Chase took a glance at the his monitors and prepared to leave the room. Before he even got out of the room, the patient was asleep. He noticed that Ethan's arm with the iv was beginning to drop off the bed and not wanting him to pull the iv out, crossed over the room and set his arm on the bed.

That's when he noticed the mark on the patient's neck.

*************************ACL********************** *****

A few minutes later, Chase walked out of the now sleeping patient's room. He grit his teeth and plastered on a smile to a trio of nurses who were not so subtly ogling him. He was so going to get House for this. No matter that Chase kept his private life secret; he knew his boss knew Chase hated anything to do with back home. It wasn't Australia per se but the memories of his life there. The Intensivist was sure that House had given him the duty of taking the patient's history to simply taunt him. For what, he did not know, probably on some whim his insane boss got. Perhaps he was bored. Chase didn't know, but at the moment he really didn't care.

Instead of going straight back to the Diagnostics department, he made a detour into a nearby private restroom. He kept up the smile until he had closed and locked the door. Once he was sure he would not be interrupted, he leaned against the sink. He so did not need House's games today especially. His whole body ached with a dull throb and his forehead felt a tad warm, such as when he had caught the flu early into his fellowship. He dreaded having to tell House he might be getting sick, as his boss was not overly known for his caring nature. Still, he reasoned with himself, he could not risk infecting a patient with whatever he was getting.

Sighing, Chase turned on the tap of the sink and splashed some water on his face. After he had meticulously scrubbed his hands and arms, he reached for a paper towel in the holder. White hot pain tore through his chest, sending him to his knees and sprawled on the cold floor. He clutched at his chest and barely remembered to turn his head to the side as pain-induced nausea ate at him and he vomited. Then he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N As always, I don't own a house let alone THE House. Hope you enjoy. **

Coldness. As nothingness slowly gave way to consciousness, all Chase could feel was the cool hard ground he lay upon. He blinked as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing at the still present, but lessened, pain in his chest.

His nostrils picked up a foul odor and it was only then did he think about glancing to his side. Fresh vomit lay on the ground and as he discovered with a swipe of his hand, on his mouth. He groaned and used his arms to leverage himself up to standing and set about cleaning up the mess.

Thankfully, there was a linen closet in the restroom and he tugged out a spare scrub top. After redressing himself and tossing the old top into the garbage, he set out of the room. He suddenly thought to look down at his watch.

"Damn!" He broke off into a semi-run as his body still felt sore and made his way to the diagnostics department. House was going to kill him and have fun while doing so. He had been missing for nearly three hours. Chase tugged his pager out of his pocket. It had ten missed pages. The Australian revised his earlier thought, not only was House going to kill him and have fun, it would be a nice and slow, painful death.

Chase's chest ached even harder as he brought his semi-run into a full on run, noting, but not caring, that his legs felt stiff. It was probably the way he'd collapsed in the bathroom. He had to dodge a few bewildered doctors and patients as he ran, all of whom wondered where the fire or rather code blue was.

Finally, he reached the Diagnostics department. He fairly burst into the room and paused by the door to catch his breath. Only to have to duck when House's cane swung close to his head.

"Interesting that you're late. What, decided to go for a make out session with the hot red headed nurse in peds? And ignoring pages, you've been a naughty boy." House cryptically stated, stepping closer to Chase who had to use every bit of self-restraint he owned to not back away. "Peeps-" House turned to Foreman and Thirteen who sat at the table wearing a mixture of concern and relief that it wasn't them their boss was lecturing-"What should we do to him?"

Chase thought fast, the best way to get House off his back would be to distract him with something interesting. Much like giving the guard dog a nice, tasty rawhide bone to gnaw on.

"Funnily enough, the patient, Ethan Turner-"Chase supplied the patient's actual name, "and I had a nice long chat about geography and prime surf locations." He turned to his fellow ducklings who both were staring confused at him. "The reason House had me do the history is that the patient's from Aussie, same area I'm from."

"Ah. I wondered where he was from." Foreman stated thoughtful. "He had a lot of pictures of places he's traveled to in his hotel room. I couldn't find a passport though, so I wasn't sure where he lived."

"Also, he had a mark on his neck. Looked like a bite mark of some sort. Not that he would be able to tell us what it's from-he's conked out on Lorazepam. Also, whatever this is, it's affected his brain. He doesn't remember ever coming to the US. He was pretty shocked to learn he wasn't in Australia." Chase absently rubbed his chest and only stopped when he noticed House staring.

"What happened, you get into a pub fight with the patient?" House smirked but his eyes narrowed as he cut his biting remark.

"Ha funny. Had to run all the way when I saw your pages. My pager stopped working for a bit." Chase invented, feeling the older doctor's stare.

"You must have a lot to report, having gone for three hours." House snarked. "Also, that run looks eventful-you have a cut on your forehead."

"Fine. I tripped on the way from the patient's room." Chase tried to quall the urge to fidget. He longed for a pencil to gnaw.

"See, here's the curious thing. Foreman and Thirteen have both been in the patient's room since you left. Amazingly, they didn't see you. I should give them eye exams, missing a person in a tiny room is a sure sign of a visual abnormality." House went in for the kill.

"Fine. Cuddy needed me for a consult in the NICU." Chase lied, his heart sinking. He felt like crap but didn't want to let anyone know. Since he was a young child, he'd been trained to not whine on and on when he was sick.

"I highly doubt that. Should I call Cuddy now and ask her why she pulled one of my doctors away from a case he was supposed to be working?" House picked up the phone as he taunted.

"No. Just. . .I'm fine, ok? I took a tumble, but I'm all right now." Chase conceded.

"Wait a second," Foreman broke into the other men's conversation. "You fell and return here three hours later. Did you lose consciousness?" He asked, although it was a foregone conclusion.

Chase pursed his lips, determined not say anything more. He was unaware that by doing so, he looked every bit like a petulant teenager. He missed the glance between his coworkers. He missed Foreman standing up from his seat and walking towards House and Chase. He missed his fellow duckling getting out his penlight.

"Follow my finger." Chase sighed when he finally noticed the other man invading his space.

"Foreman, I'm fine. I don't need a neuro exam." He refused him.

"I'm giving you the exam. Don't make me play the 'doctor' card." Foreman aimed for his eyes again.

"Foreman, that doesn't exactly work with me. I'm a doctor too. Remember? I'm fine." Chase tried to brush him off.

"Chase. I'm getting the check. I can involve Cuddy and have her authorize it without your consent or just do it now. You're being stupid to cause a fuss over it." Chase sighed. He didn't want an exam because he knew he had a concussion and he didn't want to play patient at the hospital he worked at. Being a patient when he's normally the doctor didn't sit well for him. However, he realized that although he's stubborn, Forman was even more so. The stupid prick. He nodded to show his consent.

"Follow my finger." Foreman completed the neuro exam quickly. "Well, it's a definite concussion. Congrats, you earn yourself a night spent here."

Chase sighed and tried to find a way to deflect. "Look, I'm not dying. Our patient could very well be." His words were betrayed by his body staggering. Foreman and House's quick reflexes were the only thing to save him from a painful fall. As he was helped into the recliner, he noticed Thirteen walking to him, having observed the men so far.

"You're still in pain from the fall?" The only female doctor in the room noticed that in addition to the concussion, the Australian still had his arm rubbing at his chest. "Maybe you should get an x-ray; you might've cracked a rib." She pressed her hand against Chase's chest. It wasn't an easy feat as her boss had his hands on top of the Intensivist's head, pushing it between his knees. House wasn't looking too happy to have to do so though if rolling his eyes was any indication.

"No, I'm fine." Chase choked out. He hated being the center of attention. Thirteen copied her boss as she rolled her eyes and abruptly left the room. The men stared at the door for a moment before continuing.

"Look, it's just a little knock on the head, and yeah, I might've hit a bone, but I'm ok. We have more pressing matters. Like our patient. You know, the one I keep reminding, who might die without a diagnoses?"

"Right, a little head injury is no big deal, right Foreman?" House jabbed his thumb at the neurologist.

"Ha. Face it, Chase, you're screwed for the night." The black doctor remarked. "You might want to quite while you're ahead or House might order you a MRI to check for damage." He warned the Aussie.

Chase sighed. "Look, the patient-"He shrugged off House's hand as he sat up, having felt much better-"had a bite mark. If he really did just come from Australia and not stop in at other countries first, we have some big problems." Chase groaned, he knew that he was opening doors for all sorts of abuse. "Australia has many of the world's most deadly animals there. And I doubt that the US has anecdotes to bites from animals only found in Australia. If we have any hope of curing him, if he is sick from the bite, we have to act now and find out what it was that bit him and contact the Department of Health in Australia!" They might have to fly in the cure.

While Chase was attemping to lecture his boss and coworker, Thirteen slipped into the room and made a beeline for Chase. Without warning, she grasped his wrist and stuck something on it. When the Aussie glanced down, he realized it was a hospital bracelet. "You might as well, make your stay to the books." She shrugged and tossed the other thing she carried with her. Chase was mortified to learn it was a hospital gown. "Thirteen, thanks but I don't need either of these. I'm fine and don't need to stay overnight." All three doctors glared down at him. "You are staying." House stated without preamble. His boss turned to the female doctor. "Did you remember to get a room ready? Or was that too much to remember? I know I have to make concessions for your delicate health."

Thirteen looked like she wanted to punch House and have him really disabled. She held back however and calmly stated. "Yes, I have a room prepared. It's on this floor and close."

"Look, thanks but I don't need-"Chase cut in, growing quickly tired of the banter.

"Foreman, go schedule that MRI since the wombat apparently can't remember what I told him less than five minutes ago." House snapped, rolling his eyes. All three doctors could tell that House was just screwing with the Aussie and not at all concerned for any real brain damage. Foreman complied though and walked out of the room. Chase all the while threw daggers at all three targets.

"Oh and Chase," House turned to the Australian. "Thirteen is going to help you get into that gown." The older doctor smirked as he turned towards the door, leaving the two younger doctors godsmacked.

Chase muttered unhappily, "Stupid arse FIGJAM!"

**A/N Well, I hope that you liked this chapter. I had a hard time with it and don't particularly care for it but it's a necessary one. Anyone know what's wrong with a)the patient (if it is the bite or not and if it's the bite, what's it from?)-I used real symptoms for the illness so some of you may guess it b) and what's wrong with Chase? **

**Also, for that last line, I'll leave you to google FIGJAM. **

**I'm also currently writing a House, Md and Harry Potter crossover titled "Normal Isn't Normal." Those of you who like both fandoms might like it. My profile will direct you to the link. It should be updated this week sometime. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N As always, I don't own a house let alone THE House.**

"Guys, for the last time, I'm fine!" Chase protested as he looked at the apparatus that Thirteen had gathered for him. A wheelchair. "I don't need to stay here as a patient!" He implored, hoping for once that someone would listen to him. He truly didn't feel well, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle by himself-he'd been on his own since childhood. His chest was still hurting, and his stomached roiled in discomfort.

"Chase, you have a concussion, not to mention pain from falling." Foreman ground out as he none-to-gently grasped his coworker's arm to force him into the chair and to keep him from falling while making the short trip from the recliner to the wheelchair. "You are staying here as a patient, and you are getting tests. If you were a patient of yours, you'd insist on the same treatment." The blond could tell Foreman's patience was wearing thin-or rather had already run depleted.

"Foreman, I am an Intensivist, I think I can look-"it was then that Chase's stomach decided that it had had enough and expelled everything left in it.

"What was that you were saying? That you were fine?" House snorted, looking at his sick duckling as well as his neurologist who was wearing both a disgusted expression and what was left of Chase's lunch.

"Ugh, Chase." Foreman complained as he finished situating the younger doctor into the chair. "Thirteen, I'll meet you at the MRI." Foreman left the room to presumably clean up and Thirteen grasped the handle bars of the hospital-issue wheelchair.

"I'll take him to the-" Thirteen stopped as she noticed her boss also leaving the room with them. House rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Just because I usually don't see patients doesn't mean I can't. Plus, he just earned himself a raise-puking on Foreman that takes some balls!" House laughed at the memory of his "contaminated" employee.

"Oh and Chase-" House stopped for a moment by a closet and brandished an item. "You need a new gown." The older doctor smirked and went up to the Australian. A swirl of motion and Chase found himself undressed and redressed in a fresh gown.

"House!" Chase exclaimed, embarrassed in the sight of both Thirteen and curious onlookers. His cheeks deepened into a deep rose shade and he cast his gaze to the floor, if only to fool himself no one was staring at the doctor turned patient. He didn't need to play patient, he was fine! He'd treated himself for concussions many times, why should now be any different? Besides that, he was tired, exhausted really. Chase would have to hide that; House would see it as a symptom of a severe concussion. The truth was, the Australian had found himself struggling to keep an eye open during differentials for patients for several weeks now. It was, he reasoned, from the double shifts he had pulled recently. Dr. Cuddy had needed him in the PICU, in addition to Diagonistics. The exhaustion was just kicking in after so many days having been spent on Adrenaline.

"Um. . .Chase? We're here." Thirteen's voice broke into his thoughts. Huh. Somehow without him being aware, they had arrived in the MRI room. Foreman had somehow caught up with the group and had changed into soft pink scrubs. His typical go-to for "incidents."

"Earth to Wombat!" It may be night time in the Land Down Under, but here it's only afternoon. Save your beauty rest when it's not at our expense!" The Intensivest then realized he had failed to respond to Thirteen's announcement.

"House, I don't need-" Chase protested again, realizing that with the sledgehammer of a headache he had, he probably had the fierceness of a kitten.

"Chase, you are getting the MRI. Whether or not you want it, I will get to play with this really cool machine and get paid while doing so! House scoffed as Thirteen brought the chair to the end of the MRI platform.

Foreman reached Chase and held out his arm for Chase to grasp to get out of the wheelchair. It came to no surprise to Forman that Chase refused, preferring to get up by himself. It also came to no surprise when the Aussie staggered and had to steady himself on the board. Finally, he climbed onto board and his teammates went into the nearby booth to begin the procedure.

~~ACLACL~~~

"Ah. There's a bit of brain swelling, nothing too bad considering his concussion. Everything else seems to be in order." Foreman judged while studying the computer screen that depicted Chase's brain. "Chase is going to brag that he was right." He looked up at House, who was leaning on the Neurologist's shoulder. Foreman wanted to tell his boss to back off but knew that if he complained, House would only do it more.

"We should look for any indication of his injuries from falling." Thirteen suggested after the doctors had exhausted their study of Chase's brain. Foreman nodded in agreement and began to code the order into the computer. He noticed that Chase had yet to speak to them once inside the machine. Sure, he knew that talking could perhaps distort the test, but it was unusual for there to be no talking, even from doctors who knew better.

"You doing ok in there Chase?" Forman pressed the microphone button as he talked.

The trio waited a moment but there was no answer. "Chase?" Thirteen tried to get the intensivist's attention. Once again the blond doctor failed to respond.

"House, we need to get him out of there." Foreman was already up and heading towards the door.

"No! He's probably just asleep." House finished coding the computer to scan the rest of Chase's body. He rolled his eyes when that didn't slow Foreman down.

"Exactly. If he's asleep, he's been asleep for a long time-which as you know, is dangerous for someone with a concussion!" Thirteen got up as well and followed her fellow duckling out to the MRI machine.

Foreman reached the massive device the quickest and shut it off while pressing the release button. Slowly the bed came sliding out with the Australian doctor lying on it. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing slow and deep.

"He's asleep. Big surprise." House had joined his underlings. They should have just listened to him, that's why he paid them. Or technically why he had Cuddy pay them.

"Chase. Wake up." Foreman shook his shoulder. It did nothing to awaken the doctor and Foreman and Thirteen looked at each other. Even House looked worried. The Aussie was notoriously easy to awaken.

"Chase!" House barked his name and took out his pager. "One of you toss me his pager" Thirteen nodded and handed over the device that she had been watching for Chase while inside the MRI. With a practiced ease, House punched in the Intensivist's code and set off his pager.

Chase bolted awake. "Wha-" He stammered, looking around at his colleagues.

"You wouldn't wake up." Thirteen informed him, answering his question before he asked it.

"Chase, I'm doing another neuro check." Foreman told him as he motioned for the blond to keep lying on the table. It concerned the neurologist that his cohort had been hard to awaken and now seemed confused. "This time, you get questions."

"What is today's date?" Foreman asked what seemed to be a simple question but watched as the Intensivist scrunched up his face in confusion. "I—I don't know." He admitted but then added, "that doesn't mean anything though, I mean, I'm a med student, who gets the time to figure out the dates?" He stammered.

"Med student? Chase you're a-" Foreman stopped Thirteen from telling Chase the truth.

"What are our names?" Foreman asked with a practiced calm. Truth be told, he was as worried as Thirteen appeared to be but didn't want to let on.

"You're-" Chase stopped for a moment and then pointed to House. "You're-" Apparently he couldn't remember his boss's name either so moved onto Thirteen. His face fell when he realized he didn't know any of the doctors with him.

"I don't know. " He muttered softly, refusing to look at Foreman. His Dad would be ashamed if he knew his son was admitting defeat. The Chase family NEVER showed weakness-NEVER! Speaking of which-"Is my father here?" He asked, looking around. He didn't really expect him to be there, because he never was around when Robert had needed him, but maybe since he was obviously in hospital, his Dad was there. If only as a doctor completing his shift.

If House, Foreman and Thirteen weren't already disconcerted with Chase's apparent lack of memory, they were then. None of them particularly wanted to be the one who told the Aussie that his Dad was dead, that he was orphaned with no family to call his own.

"Your dad, he's. . .not here." Thirteen answered simply, hoping he wouldn't question it. A moment passed, and it became evident that Chase wouldn't ask more about his dad. Instead the Australian looked distressed at something and locked eyes with House. He didn't know why, but out of the three doctors that surrounded him, he opted for the one who had been the quietest to him, almost aloof. He wasn't used to being the center of attention after all.

"Where am I?" He asked House directly. He didn't miss the cringe that occurred upon his question.

House was torn. He wanted to joke with or rather at the Australian doctor but something told him to tone it down for the moment. He privately called that nudge the "Wilson factor." The Wilson factor won out and he finally answered the blond.

"You are in the US." He hoped his Intensivist would not be too shell shocked at the news.

"What? How—How did I get here? I don't. . .I don't remember." Chase looked all the more like a kid as he broke eye contact with his boss and stared at the table he was lying on.

"Don't worry. We'll take care of you." Thirteen responded, gentler than her normal nature allowed her to be. "I'm Doctor Hadley, but everyone calls me Thirteen. That guy over there-" she pointed-"is Doctor Eric Foreman and that man-"nodding to her boss-"Is Doctor Gregory House."

Chase nodded absently; he had many questions but didn't voice them. He wasn't supposed to question his betters. His father always taught him to respect people above him.

Suddenly he began to feel odd and without warning, his eyes rolled up into his head and his body began to twitch.

"He's having a seizure!" Foreman supplied the obvious. He leaned over his confused coworker and tried to hold him down so he wouldn't hurt himself. He noticed that House had gotten on the other side of the table and was also holding down the Australian. Thirteen had run to get Ativan.

The female doctor was quick and retrieved the needed injection. She quickly injected the needle into Chase's thigh and he became limp. All three doctors shared a sigh of relief.

"Get a gurney and roll him back to his room." House stated staring at his youngest duckling. He cared, in his own twisted way about his employees, he just never showed his caring.

~~ACL~~

House watched as Chase slept. It was several hours later, well into the night. He had sent Thirteen home, as she had done an overnight shift the night previous and had stayed past her shift ending to help with Chase. Foreman and he were taking turns watching the blond sleep and waking him up every so often to check his mental status. House had relieved the black doctor two hours previously and had already completed one check. Chase still hadn't remembered who he was or why he was there.

House was more concerned that he let on. While every one of Chase's symptoms could be attributed to his falling and getting a concussion, the cynical doctor was sure there was bits of the story he was missing. Also, every single symptom matched their other Australian patient. Chase had mentioned a bite-and the other doctors had seen it too, but that could be just background noise, not the true reason for his sickness.

In case it was the same illness, House had hooked up Chase to a heart monitor to watch his heart and respiration. Their patient-House couldn't be bothered to remember his name, or even if he was a he-had begun to have heart trouble earlier in the day and the doctors were no closer in finding a solution.

With the blinds closed, House slowly reached out to the blond's shoulder. "You'll be ok. We'll figure it out." He quickly removed his hand lest anyone walk in and see House being nice, see him caring. That would be a nightmare, Cuddy'd probably have him dress up as Santa Claus for the cancer kids in December if she saw him being nice! Yuck!

~~~ACL~~~

"CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE!"

**A/N Don't kill me! Pretty Please with a cherry on top? If you kill me, you won't find out what happens next! So does Chase have the same disease as Ethan? Or is simply from the concussion? Or is it something else? **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Like always, I don't own a house let alone THE House**

"_CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE!"_

A team of three doctors and two nurses flew into the Australian's hospital room. One of the doctors took less than a second to read the monitor hanging next to the bed. "Paddles! Push an Epi!" he demanded, hand already stretched out to receive them. Another doctor ripped the patient's gown apart to reveal the chest while one of the nurses wasted no time in grabbing the AED paddles and slathering the gel onto both of them. She quickly handed them over to the doctor who was already poised over the ailing man's body.

"Charge to 200!" A second of a pause, "Clear!" He shocked the man, whose body jerked in tune with the "zzt" of the shock.

"No pulse!" The doctor who had ripped the Aussie's gown reported.

"Charge to 260! Clear!"

"Again!"

"Charge to 300! Clear!"

"Still no pulse!"

"Another amp of Epi!" Charge to 320! Clear!"

"Negative!"

"Charge to 340!" The Intensivist cried out, "Clear!"

"Damn still nothing!" The other doctor reported.

Everyone held his or her own breaths as the Intensivist called for the defibrillator to be charged for the final time. 360 was the maximum joulets of power that the machine was designed to allow for an adult and that was the only setting left. "Charge to 360!" He called out and then, "Clear!"

The line depicting the heart rhythm ignored the charges and remained flat.

"Call it." The doctor who had been watching over the monitor decided.

"Time of death, 3:34 AM."

***ACL***

"House."

Something was calling to him. The Diagonistian lifted his previously sleeping eyes towards the voice. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He blinked a couple times and Foreman came into focus. His Neurologist looked defeated. The scrubs he had thrown on earlier that day were stained with sweat, the man's face glistened and his eyes were weary.

"I've got news." Foreman simply announced as he fingered a file in his hands. He paused, looking like he was debating something. House just wished he'd get on with it.

The black doctor drew in a breath and slowly released it. He ran his hand over his non-existent hair on the top of his head. Finally he spoke.

"Ethan Turner just died."

Whatever House was expecting, it wasn't that. He slowly stood up and grasped his cane. He looked over at the man in the bed. "You need to do the autopsy." He turned back to his Neurologist. "Whatever those punks in the morgue say, convince them that you need to do it."

"House, we shouldn't piss off people just to piss them off!" Foreman objected, knowing full well how territorial the staff in the morgue were.

House turned upon him, blue eyes flashing. "Screw the morgue docs and their oversensitive feelings! Wombat here, is exhibiting the same symptoms as-"he paused, "whatever the hell our patient's name was! And we've just learned that without a quick diagnoses Chase will become the morgue docs' case!" He snapped, waving his cane at his Neurologist.

"House, don't snap at me, I think they are just a bit upset that you've used cadavers as lab rats! Illegally, I might add!"

"Foreman! Just go do it!" House tried to fend off the oncoming explosion, "look, I don't trust them, I trust-" He paused for a moment and then continued, "I trust you'll not screw everything up." He ended.

Foreman finally nodded; his face grave as he looked at the blond figure lying in the large hospital bed. The kid looked even younger with his hair flopping in his face and his normally guarded expression blank. He and the Australian doctor fought like young siblings most days, but when pressed, he might be willing to call the man a friend, even if only by default. He certainly didn't want anything to happen to his coworker. Without thinking about it, he brushed aside a lock of hair that was resting on the Intensivist's eyelids.

"I'll get right on it." Foreman acquiesced as he took his leave.

***ACL***

House watched the other doctor go and turned back to Chase. The blinds were drawn so he felt safe enough to grasp the kid's hand. "We'll figure it out; I'm not going to let you kick off. I've invested too much of my time in training you to be a worthwhile doctor to let you go and have to start interviewing again!" He tried to inject some of his normal snideness into the situation but it fell flat to even his own ears.

He'd be damned if anyone knew, but he did care for his team, his ducklings in his own way of course. He certainly wasn't like Wilson who could show empathy at a drop of a hat, but he wasn't a complete bastard. Foreman, he showed he cared by not allowing the doctor to become too arrogant; the Neurologist didn't yet possess the experience to allow him to be self-assured like House was. The surly doctor showed his caring for Thirteen by making her get the Huntington's test and then not allowing her to wallow in the dismal result. Finally, House showed he cared for his youngest duckling by allowing the Australian to treat him as a warped father figure. He knew the Intensivist had not had a great early life and wanted to keep it a secret; thus he teased him about having lived a cushy life. He allowed the boy to mask in the lie he readily made people believe.

A rustling interrupted House's musings. For the second time in as many hours, he was disturbed by one of his fellows. This time, a pair of blue-green eyes stared up at him in wonder. "House?"

House masked his concern for the kid right away as he studied the almost teenage looking Australian. "Name?" He asked instead, launching straight into a neuro exam.

Chase looked at his mentor confused. "My name is Dr. Robert Chase, why would you-"

"Age?" House interrupted his fellow.

"Twenty-six. . .no twenty-seven" Chase dully remembered his birthday, not that there was fanfare over the event. He wasn't used to anyone even wishing him good wishes on his birthday.

House wasn't done yet. He wasn't sure if the uncertainity over his age was just a mistake or a symptom. "Where are you?"

"I'm in Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in Princeton, New Jersey in the US. House, what's-"

"What was the last case we solved?" House quizzed.

"It was the teen who claimed he was a faith healer." Chase answered perplexed. His mind felt hazy and a glimpse told him the reason-he was on a very strong pain relief drip that would trump House's vicodin any day.

House gave the fellow a rare grin. "Don't get addicted, it sucks and welcome back. Now we just got to make sure you don't die on us."

"House, I'm not sick, I just took a fall to the head! Chase complained, annoyed at his boss's overreaction, and though something in his gut told him all was not well with his body. His boss could be more right than he knew.

***ACL***

House had left Chase sleeping in his room. Despite the Aussie's objections that all was well, except for a minor head injury, House had a nagging feeling that something was wrong.

At first he hadn't wanted to leave the young doctor by himself, without him or Foreman to watch over the blond and make sure he didn't get himself into any more haring situations but a quick bribe to the nursing staff and taken care of that. Chase now had a nurse to stay personally in his room until one of the team could take over "Wombat-Watch."

It was now eight-thirty in the morning and the Diagonistician saw his best friend arrive in his office. He grabbed his cane and the yoyo he had been playing with. He crept as quietly as his cane allowed. Wilson had left his door open and his back was to it.

Wilson never saw the yoyo until it smacked him lightly on the back of his head. The Oncologist turned around. "House, must you assault me the moment I arrive for work? Isn't there a rule stating you have to wait at least ten minutes before trying to kill your coworker?" Wilson deadpanned, running a hand over his slightly smarting head.

"Australian patient died. Chase might be following in his footsteps." House announced by way of greeting.

Wilson stared incredulously at his friend. "Are you sure?"

"No, I just worry and obsess over subordinates who might be dying on my watch!" He snapped as he wound his yoyo back up and began to walk the dog with it.

"Well, if you need me to help with the differential I know that you are going to run, just ask." Wilson offered, knowing full well that House would have dragged him into the DDX anyways. Not that he minded in this case, Chase, as with the other two ducklings had become somewhat of friends in the time they had spent at the hospital together.

House's attention was caught when he glanced over to the conference room and Thirteen entering. She was staring at the white board that he himself had spent the last few hours agonizing over. He nodded in answer to Wilson and then limped back to his office.

"House, I got the update that Ethan Turner died, why do we still have his case?" Thirteen dared to ask, remembering the fiasco of the kid who had reminded her boss of Ester.

"Because while one patient might be too far gone for us to treat, another is still within our reach-unless you want to wait a while and let nature take its course!" He snapped crossly at the female underling.

"What other patient?" Thirteen questioned, the only other person the team was treating was Chase, and he only had a concussion, not a life or death disease like her boss enjoyed.

"Let's see, who is blond, speaks with an annoying accent and typically sits here?" House mocked as he tapped the chair the Intensivist usually occupied.

"Chase. But he's not sick, just concussed!" Thirteen argued at her boss.

"I have reason to believe otherwise but until the car thief gets here, I won't waste my breath." House stated as he traded his yoyo for his ball. He tossed it into the air all the while going over the facts of both Australians' illnesses. Chase had seemed lethargic for a few weeks, and had obviously been in pain yesterday. He said he had fallen, sustained the head injury and hurt his chest. However, no bones had been broken or even bruised. It was as if his lungs and heart were in pain, rather than ribs becoming sore from an injury. He had been confused upon wakening from the MRI, a sign of his concussion but could also be a symptom of an underlying condition.

Before House could get farther in his musings, Foreman strode into the conference room, results of the autopsy in his hands.

"Australian Bat Lyssavirus" he announced in greeting.

***ACL***

Nearby in his room, Robert Chase awoke from his nap, he'd finally been declared safe to sleep more than two hours at a time and it was wonderful! Although that seemed to be the only good thing about waking up.

His body still felt off, and a pulsing pain radiated from everywhere. The Aussie grit his teeth and looked at his IV bag, which had run on empty. The nurse he had been awoken by earlier was nowhere to be found. He could technically use the call button to page for additional pain medicine but that would be telling House there was something wrong.

Instead he disconnected the useless IV and swung his aching body over the side of the bed and stood up.

"ARH!" He couldn't help gasping as he fell to the floor. Pain, while pulsing through his body earlier had flooded his feet from his toes to his heels. It was worse than when he had broken his foot at age fourteen. The pain would not dissipate in five minutes and only seemed to grow.

"It's only in your mind." Chase attempted to convince himself lest he lack the energy to try to get up. He lifted his arms above his head and grasped the railing of the bed. He bit his lip as he tried to pull himself up.

It was no use, the pain was far too great and for the third time in less than that many days, Chase threw up and slunk to the floor in agony. He embarrassedly noticed that tears were forming in his eyes. He couldn't reach the call button and the blinds were drawn so no one would be able to see him on the floor. For once in his life, the Aussie didn't know what to do. His body felt like it was being pummeled with a cat of nine tails and no one knew.

So Chase did the only thing he could do and cried out, "Please. . .someone. . .help me!"

**A/N Ok, so not as bad of a cliffie in this chapter, but any guesses as to what Chase has? Does he have Australian Bat Lyssavirus? (Remember, it's not been revealed if he's visited there or not lately)? Or is it something totally different? Could it be all in his head? Will anyone find him on the floor? If so, who? The next chapter shouldn't take long getting out! :-D**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N I don't own a house let alone THE House. Oscar the Cat owns me though. . .**

"_Please. . .someone. . .help me!" _ The mysterious pain shot down his feet, growing in intensity as it spread. The smell of his sick threatened to overcome him as he didn't possess the strength to turn away. Robert Chase had known pain before, with being a rather active youth and having a drunk for a mum. This agony topped everything he had ever experienced.

The Intensivist weakly attempted to move his arms over his head again but again was met with a blindingly sharp smarting twinge. He hated looking weak in front of others. He had been groomed as a toddler not to show weakness in front of anyone. Even as a two year old, when going to his pediatrician, his father had warned him that any whimpering at an immunization would be dealt with severely when they arrived home. It had only taken one time of disobeying his father that he learned to never cry again. The bruises on his back and butt had been effective reminders.

Chase slowly raised his neck as much as he could and spied the patient call button attached to his bed. It was sorely out of reach and he let his head fall back to the cool floor. The Australian could see no other option other than yelling out for help once more.

"Please. . .help. . .me!" His accent grew thicker in his despair.

~~~ACL~~~

It made little sense. Ethan Turner had died from Australian Bat Lyssavirus, which was transmitted through affected animals via bites. There were only three, now four, cases of the disease being spread onto humans, and all of them were fatal. Sure, Ethan may have been very unlucky and gotten bit, but that didn't explain why Chase was now seemingly showing symptoms.

House stared at the whiteboard at Ethan's symptoms which he had yet to erase. He twirled his marker in an way reminiscent of his Australian fellow before turning to his remaining doctors.

"People think!" He snapped at the two remaining doctors in the conference room. House loved puzzles, the stranger, the better. However, he was not enjoying the puzzle that was his youngest duckling. He hated, but expected, patients to lie but as a doctor, Chase certainly should know better.

"House, did you ever stop and think that this so-called medical mystery about Chase is all in your head? You like screwing with people, it's no wonder you're finding something wrong with Chase!" Foreman groused as he shook his head.

"Sure. Perfectly fine people are exhausted for weeks on end, massage their knuckles when they think no one is watching and wake up not being able to remember who they are and missing several years!" House spat.

"House, that could have been the concussion! It's normal for concussed people to experience amnesia!" The Neurologist rolled his eyes.

House took the bait. "Yes, it COULD have been the concussion, but let's function as if we are, I don't know, doctors and all these symptoms don't equal a concussion. Besides, on his last neuro check, he seemed more like the wombat we all know and tolerate!"

"So, he's getting better?" Thirteen questioned, hopeful that this was her boss being a nosy jackass but also concerned for her friend.

"If he was getting better, we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?" House barked at his lone female employee.

"All right, say you're right and Chase really is sick. We know that Ethan Turner died of Australian Bat Lyssavirus. Which isn't human to human contagious. Unlesss, you want to suggest Ethan bit Chase." Foreman scoffed, pretending to humor his boss.

"Hey, Kangaroo meat is all the rage in Australia. Maybe Turner was homesick!" House snarked. "And, if it is the same thing, Chase could have caught it when he went to Australia a month ago. The incubation period for ACL is two to four weeks, with some cases being six weeks!"

Thirteen looked pensive and moved to the laptop and rapidly began typing. The two male doctors stared at her, each wondering what she was up to but knowing better than to interrupt her. Finally ten minutes later she turned back to them. "If it's ACL, then Chase doesn't have a chance. It's fatal 100% of the time." She somberly stated.

The three doctors were quiet for a moment more before Foreman spoke up. "IF, Chase is sick, we should treat him like any other patient. We need to do a patient history, labs, and assume that he's lying to us." Foreman decided, acting like he was the boss. House obliged him for a moment before smiling at his Neurologist.

"Yep, and that means you get to do the break in."

Foreman groaned, he should have known that his maniac boss would have him break into his coworker's house. He only hoped that the Australian doctor would be as understanding about it as he is about breaking into other patients' homes.

House used his cane to open the door. "Thirteen, you get to run labs, but not until I take a patient history." House smiled as he left the department.

"Boy, if Chase isn't dying, he'll be wanting to when House is done with him." Thirteen stated. Foreman nodded in ascent.

~~~ACL~~~

House headed to his youngest duckling's hospital room. Foreman was wrong. While he was undoubtedly a sadistic son of a bastard at times, he would never wish for anyone to be sick just so he play with them. He enjoyed the puzzle of figuring out what was wrong and then curing it, but even he wasn't sick enough to wish illness on anyone. Well, maybe that jerk Volger, but the man would deserve it.

Speaking of Volger, he still couldn't believe that it had been his most loyal duckling to sell him out. It hurt more than the surly doctor would like to admit. He would have expected it of Foreman, maybe even Thirteen, but Chase wasn't ever even an consideration. He had forgiven the boy though. The lad had never had anyone to rely on growing up and bound to have had to live by the means of self preservation. Forgiving the young doctor didn't mean that he'd gotten over the hurt, but after a few months of torture, they were even.

He was at Chase's room when he noticed that the blinds were closed. It was true that he himself had closed the blinds the night before, but with it being daytime, and his duckling's love of light, he had expected the blinds to be open. It wasn't like Chase was being given some sort of invasive procedure. He shook his head and filed away the semi-mystery for later.

With his cane, he rapped on the door in his trademark way before thrusting open the door, "Chase" he greeted and then his eyes took in the image before him. His duckling was lying on the floor, vomit near him and barely conscious. House moved to his employee's side a quickly as he could limp. "Chase?!" He tried to get the man's attention. There was no answer and House moved his hand to the other's neck.

To his relieve, his Intensivist was alive but to House's regret, his Intensivist's pulse was dangerously high. "I need some help here!" He screamed out and a nurse came rushing in. "Get me Nitroglyerin now!" House didn't waste any time for politeness. Not that he ever was polite but that was besides the point. The nurse nodded, rushed out and was back in the room within mere seconds.

House gave the medicine to his duckling and replaced the heart monitor which had fallen off earlier. To his relieve, Chase started to stir. "Ho-" He mumbled through barely parted lips and half closed eyes. House cut off the boy with a muttered shush and looked down at his now-obviously sick employee.

"Let's get you up in bed. I'm sure the nurse is gone to get a couple of orderlies but I don't trust that they won't make a bigger mess of things." House couldn't believe he was being outwardly nice but the chances were high that the Australian doctor wouldn't remember it anyways. House leaned against the bed with his good leg and offered the sick man a hand to pull up on to. He was bemused when the boy just stared at the offered hand but made no move to actually take the hand.

"What? I promise I don't have cooties." House snarked, again filing away the incident for future perusal.

"I don't think I can." Chase softly admitted, casting his eyes to the ground he laid on. His voice was filled with deep regret and embarrassment.

"You don't think you can what?" House questioned, trying to see where the boy was going with this. Chase remained silent though, his typical response to anything that he was ashamed of. House tried again. "You don't think you can reach your hand up to me? Or you don't think you can trust to me to leverage your weight-which by the way, is way too light." House threw in a joke, hoping it would calm the other doctor. It did not.

"I don't think I can reach my arm up to you. Everything. . .everything hurts." Chase admitted with a scared sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Do you?" He uncharacteristically allowed House to see through his typically iron rod walls.

House thought for a moment before using his cane to lift himself to the floor. "Here, let's try this." He looped the arm not holding the cane around the boy and used the cane to wedge himself and the Australian against the bed. It took agnonizing minutes, but finally both doctors were on their feet.

House didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't what he got. The moment that Chase put any weight on his feet, his whole face contorted with pain. "Oww" he heard the doctor mutter as his eyes got watery. House didn't speak but instead, simply guided the man to sit and then lay on the bed.

Both men were quiet for several minutes. The psychical challenge of supporting his own weight plus another person's was harder than House had thought it would be. He was also disturbed at how weak the boy was. Which brought about another question.

"Where are the nurses I assigned to stay with you?" He questioned, finally breaking the silence.

"They. . .said they were due to get off and that since-"Chase broke off his own sentence to grimace in pain. "Since, I was safe from the concussion's side effects, I would be okay."

"I'll be having a talk with them." House promised, knowing all the while talking meant threatening not only their jobs but their sorry lives. He took a moment to really look at his duckling. His face was pale but sweaty, consistant of a fever, low grade, if House had to guess-and he'd be getting a more accurate check in a few minutes-feet swollen, and a soft rash had appeared on the boy's legs

"I'll get you some more morphine for the pain." He pressed the call button and relayed his request, or rather demand to the nurse and also for her to get someone to clean up the contaminated floor.

"I need to get a history on you." House admitted, hoping that by being honest, his duckling would be thrown and be surprised enough to answer truthfully. He also hoped by distracting the Australian, the pain he was clearly in would dissipate some since his mind would not be focused on it.

"Any family history of diseases?" House quizzed, knowing full well about Rowan Chase but wanting to see if there were any others.

"No, nothing other than my dad having lung cancer and my mum having liver cancer, there have been no other types of major illnesses anywhere in my family." Chase answered honestly, if not a bit scared.

"Well, I doubt it's either one of those, but we'll test for them for the heck of it. When you were in Australia recently, did you get bit by anything?"

"No, not even a tick bite." Chase tried to joke as pain sharp as needles continued to flood his body.

Back and forth the questions went but not at all like House had wanted. Nothing was standing out and the only saving grace was that the nurse had finally brought in a fresh morphine drip and Chase's pain had ebbed.

Foreman's home search had not turned up anything either. House had gotten the useless page in the middle of getting Chase's history, another defeat. Still, there had been one tidbit of information that House had found out that he would have to have investigated. He got out his phone and ignoring the many rules about cell phone use disallowed in the hospital, summoned up his internet icon. Within minutes he found what he was looking for, and finished the transaction. Beside his seat he had pulled close to the hospital issue bed, Chase slept, finally at peace. House took out his pager and sent two pages.

Mere minutes his Neurologist and Internal Medicine specialist came flying into Chase's room. "What do you mean, have an awesome time in Australia?!"

**A/N Well, there we go. At least this time, Chase isn't left lying on the floor in his own sick. Hope you enjoyed this chapter with slightly less drama than the previous two. I would love to hear your thoughts and guesses on Chase's mysterious disease. Also, what do you think of the other ducklings' assignment? LOL. **


End file.
